


Never be cold again

by Petra



Series: To Be Awakened [4]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M, Post-War Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-28
Updated: 2005-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim can feel himself losing all the control he's been fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never be cold again

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://thete1.livejournal.com/profile)[**thete1**](http://thete1.livejournal.com/), who needed a fix.

Tim hasn't been to Gotham since --

He can't figure out what to call the tipping point. There are words, but they are overly facile, or overly filthy.

Particularly because it was a tipping point, he wants it to be something at least marginally dignified.

"The time Clark licked my ass" really lacks in every category but the bald description of truth.

He still can't quite make himself look blank, to himself, but the police don't seem to have noticed a change in their new vigilante.

What Batman will say when he does go back to Gotham -- Tim will just have to take that when it comes.

It's only two nights before he hears the sound that means "Superman," which is just as well; Gotham isn't a good place to be until he's feeling entirely himself again, but it's not like they don't know something's wrong.

Batgirl must know. She may even know what the causal factor was, though how that can possibly show in his body language from a distance, Tim's not sure.

Superman is there, now, in any case, and it's only a moment before he puts his arms around Tim's waist and they're airborne.

"I have a patrol to complete," Tim says against Clark's shoulder.

"I'll keep an ear out for you," Clark says, and kisses his cheek.

It's deeply unfair, and worse because he still feels warm and familiar.

Tim can feel himself losing all the control he's been fighting for.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"South," Clark says, and he wraps his cape around Tim. Now they're over the ocean, and Tim holds on very tightly.

He has time to think, "So that's what the sound barrier feels like without a plane," and then they're pretty much there.

When they land, it's not, actually, cold, because they're already inside. Clark squeezes Tim's shoulder. "Welcome."

"This is --"

"Yes," Clark says, and kisses him.

It's not just a kiss, though it starts there. Clark is stroking him and he's panting for it, already. It's enough to make him ashamed of himself, if he could really manage shame here.

Not in the Fortress of Solitude. Who's going to know except Clark?

It just makes Clark smile when Tim can't stop himself from moaning. "We need a bed," Clark says, and -- there is a bed.

There wasn't a bed there half a minute ago, but there's one behind Tim when he falls backwards.

His tights are somewhere else already, and so are his boots. Clark is over him, on him, kissing him.

"Clark," Tim says, "are you always this --"

Clark stops, and his eyes -- if Kon's eyes looked like that, Tim would be trying to figure out what power he was developing. Clark looks dazed and focused at the same time. "What's wrong?"

"It's not that I mind being pinned down," Tim says, and arches against Clark -- there's really no armor at all in those tights -- "it's just -- kind of a theme."

Clark rolls them over and Tim ends up sitting on his stomach. "Is this better?"

Tim smiles. He can't help it. "For now." It should be colder in the Fortress, his brain says, because he knows he's in Antarctica, but it's more uncomfortable to be dressed than it will be to be naked.

Especially with Clark pulling at his clothes.

It only takes fifteen seconds to get his tunic off, which is about twelve seconds longer than it takes for Clark to get undressed at speed and start stroking him. It makes it harder to take the mask off because his hands are shaking. He used to be able to make his hands stop shaking by just concentrating harder.

"I don't know --" Tim gasps. He actually gasps, and he bites his lip to stop it from happening again. "God, Clark."

"What?" Clark asks, and pulls him down to lick his nipple with broad, firm strokes -- not very firm, because it could be moreso, it's Superman, but firm enough to make Tim shiver.

"I can't do this with you," Tim says, and if he whimpers in the middle, it just makes it all more true.

Clark lets him -- helps him sit up -- and all of that hazy focus is on Tim's face, now. "What's wrong, Tim?"

It's horrible to have him looking so intently and seeing so much. Tim tries to hide how much he wants this, and knows Clark can see it; he tries to hide his wince at that, and Clark touches his cheek. "I'm not -- I can't be in love with you."

Clark takes a deep breath, and Tim can feel it all through his body. "No?"

Tim closes his eyes so at least he won't have to see Clark reacting to the way he looks. It's childish, and it won't fix anything, but it makes it a little easier to talk. "I don't know who you want me to be, but I can't just -- run off like this. Or fly off. Or just feel like this, like there's no -- no consequences."

"Ah." Clark is stroking his hair. "I've never wanted you to be anyone but Tim."

Tim scowls at him. "But you did, because -- because I don't do this kind of thing. And I don't -- I can't -- do you know how hard it is to act like Robin when I can still feel how open and -- warm you made me?"

Clark's smile is very sad. It makes Tim want to shake him, but it's not possible to shake Superman. "I'm not sure I know what you mean by 'acting like Robin.'"

"I -- there's so much I can't hide anymore, when I know I can't just -- go around smiling at people, and it's stupid to feel this way, like I'm in some movie and I just -- well. I just got laid." Tim shakes his head. "I can't just -- Robin -- I can't feel this good. It's getting in the way."

It would be easier to keep talking, maybe, if Clark wasn't stroking his thigh.

"I don't see why feeling good and doing what you need to do are exclusive categories," Clark says mildly.

"I don't know how you can do all of this -- stuff -- and then go be Superman," Tim says, even though he doesn't really believe it. "I -- how can you rim people and then go address the United Nations?"

Clark laughs, which makes Tim's whole body shake. "I make sure I brush my teeth first."

Tim shakes his head. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." Clark squeezes his hip. "Do you have to be so emotionless to do your job?"

"Yes," Tim says immediately, even though it makes Clark look sad again.

"Perhaps you should be spending time with Dick," he says, and -- that would be less disturbing if Tim wasn't naked.

Tim shakes his head. "I -- I know. I saw. I know it's not what Dick did, and I know it's not what Jason did -- but it's the only way I know how to be Robin."

Clark is rubbing his lower back, now. Getting pretty close to squeezing his ass. This is definitely cheating, but -- it feels good, and if --

Tim's not going to call him on it. Yet.

"I'm not sure we should call what you're doing 'being Robin,' so much as 'learning to be Batman,'" Clark says, and -- that's definitely a wistful look.

It's really not what Tim wants to hear. "I'm not Batman." He squeezes Clark with his thighs. "If I were, I wouldn't be here."

"Probably not," Clark admits, and -- yes, he's definitely resting his hand on Tim's ass now. "But would it be so bad if you were?"

"You make it difficult -- almost impossible -- to hide what I'm feeling," Tim says, and, okay, maybe this is the last time, so he can lean against Clark's hand a little. He's already using facial muscles he hasn't since the tipping point hit two days ago.

He can get them under control again later.

Clark is petting his thigh, too. "If it's not impossible -- then perhaps it's a case of 'what does not kill me makes me stronger.'"

Tim knows he looks painfully adolescent and annoyed at that, but there's nowhere to put it except on his face. "I was strong. About this, I mean. You made me weaker."

"Can you call it a training exercise?" Clark suggests, and --

If Tim was going to stop Clark from kissing him, he probably would have had to move farther away starting about five minutes ago. It's too late now.

The kiss makes him moan.

"Oh, fuck," Tim says. To Superman. To Clark, but -- still to Superman. "I don't -- Clark --"

"Do you want me to stop?" Clark asks, and he should be flushed. Tim feels flushed, and he's absolutely positive it's showing.

He can't lie. Even if he wasn't hard and shivering -- not from the cold, but just from Clark -- he couldn't tell a lie now. "No. I -- no."

"All those expressions," Clark says, and he touches Tim's cheek. "If you're training --"

Tim blushes and hates himself for it. "I can't stop them."

Clark kisses him again. "Perhaps you should focus on one or two, right now." He licks his palm and strokes Tim a little faster.

"Clark --" Tim's not even sure whether he's trying to object or encourage him. "I -- not now."

"Oh, absolutely now." Clark squeezes him and he -- he really has to learn how to not groan.

Again.

"But I -- I can't --"

"Kneel up," Clark says, and it's all Tim can do to follow instructions, let alone not look surprised, or gasp when Clark moves down the bed and licks him.

His mouth is inhumanly warm and hot, and when he sucks, it's perfect. Past perfect.

Tim can feel his own mouth hanging open and -- he's going to scream.

He covers his mouth with both hands, but it's not enough.

Clark laughs. At him. And looks up -- his eyes are so blue, so clear -- and smiles. With his mouth full. "Maybe you should start just focusing on looking -- happy."

He licks Tim again -- and Tim wants to say he's not sure how that works, but he's not sure he'd be telling the truth.

"Happy?" He doesn't want to be lost in the way this feels, but he can't help it. He couldn't look anything but happy -- rapturous, ecstatic, completely turned on -- even if he wanted to. That's the only 'shouldn't' he's got left. "Oh, god, Clark." There's no reason not to let his hips jerk just as much and as fast as he wants them to, and Clark's hand is on his hip --

Like a human's would be to stop him.

Clark is pulling him, just a little harder, into his mouth. Licking him, sucking him, groaning almost as loud as Tim is, and if he could watch this he'd be coming already. He wouldn't need Clark's fingernails sharp on his thigh, he probably wouldn't even be able to feel his face --

Happy.

"Jesus, Clark," Tim says, and then he does have to open his eyes, to apologize, to -- whatever --

To stare at the focus in Clark's face and the way he looks -- like Superman.

Even with Tim fucking his mouth hard, and his lips are stretched and wet and --

Tim can't make himself look away long enough to control anything at all. The heat of Clark's mouth feels like it's all over his body and his spine doesn't exist anymore, his hands don't, he's nothing but his hips pushing and his dick pulsing as he comes and shouts and looks -- happy.

Clark lets him go slowly, still staring at his face. "You're beautiful," he says, and he runs his hand up Tim's chest.

"I --" Tim moves off him. His knees are trembling, and he lies down.

Clark pets his hair and hugs him. "You're doing well at looking happy."

The happy expression twitches into chagrin and he can't -- can't get the first one back. "You're giving me a lot of help."

Clark smiles at him and kisses him again, softly this time. "I'm doing the best I can."

Tim shivers again. "Why me?"

"You're Tim," Clark says, and kisses him again. He presses Tim against the mattress again. "And -- you said you didn't mind being pinned down."

"Not particularly," Tim says.

There's a blur of superspeed and Clark has his hands pinned. "Then -- maybe you should try another expression this time."

"I -- I can't just use one."

Clark smiles. "I know." Another kiss. "If you could --" and another -- "you wouldn't be Tim."

Tim blinks. "But I -- yes, I would be. I --"

Clark shakes his head. "I don't want you to be Robin, here."

"I could be, and --" Clark cuts him off with another kiss.

"Not just Robin." Clark moves down to bite his nipple. "I enjoy seeing your face."

Tim shakes his head. "I can't do this."

"Can't you?" The wet heat of Clark's mouth makes him shudder. "You're doing well so far."

"But I can't --"

Clark moves Tim's hands down by his sides, and -- no, he probably can't pull away without permission. He's looking at Tim's expression, now, watching everything -- all his doubts, all his discomfort -- and smiling. He's so certain that this is the right thing. "Why not?"

"I have to be Robin," Tim says.

"Right now?" Another swipe of Clark's tongue over his nipple -- hot, hard -- and he's shivering.

"I -- I don't know."

"Well," Clark says, and Tim should be more sensitive than this -- it should hurt more to be nuzzled again, so soon, but Clark is infinitely delicate. Just as he could be infinitely strong, if he wanted. "Do you want me to be Superman now?" he asks, not in his Clark voice.

Tim shivers. "Do you want to be?"

Clark looks amused. More than amused, hungry and grinning at him. "Weren't you telling me Superman wouldn't do these things?"

"I -- " Tim can't really think about anything but Clark's mouth. "I -- probably not, no. But -- oh, god -- I guess if --" He's lifting his hips, but now Clark -- or Superman -- is pinning one of his thighs down with one leg. He can't get anywhere. "Clark --" It's a moan, and he doesn't know whether he looks afraid or just turned on.

Probably both.

"Hmm," Clark says around his dick, and -- that's -- Tim can't put words to it. "Who do you want, Tim?"

"You," is all Tim manages.

It makes Clark laugh and push his thighs apart. "Good."

Tim shakes his head. "Please -- you're going to -- I -- I can't --"

"Just be Tim," Superman says -- and that's not fair, but it is Superman. Against his thigh.

"I'm trying and -- oh, please, please --" He can't fight in any direction now, except by talking, and the blood is not flowing to his brain. "Why -- why Tim?"

"Robin would be far too easy," Superman says -- Superman -- and licks him.

He has no defenses. He didn't have any when they landed on this damn continent, and then the vague backup pretend defenses went away.

"Oh, god," Tim hears himself say, and whatever's on his face is just going to have to be there, because he has no control at all. "Oh fuck, Superman -- I -- god I couldn't --"

Superman hums against him, a soft inquisitive note.

"Robin -- isn't easy." Tim tightens his hands into fists and tries, tries not to scream. "Jesus -- god -- please --"

"Robin's predictable," Superman says -- wetly. And licks him again.

Tim really does scream this time, wordlessly.

Superman licks him again and he tenses his toes without meaning to -- it hurts, and it feels perfect, and it gets him nowhere. Tim moans and tries to relax -- tries to open his fists -- tries to hide his face in the pillow -- and Superman fucks him with his tongue.

"I can't -- I -- Clark," Tim says, and -- Clark squeezes his thigh.

Maybe it's Clark.

Clark -- or Superman -- if it matters right now -- presses a finger inside him and he wants to scream again, which means he does it, because whatever control he ever had is gone.

He can't even swear enough to get out all the feelings, so they all end up in his face, where Clark can't see them right now --

So it's safe to do it, and he can moan, and whimper all he wants, as long as the real feelings are on his face -- and Clark's tongue presses against him and his finger is hot and right, right where it needs to be.

He's shuddering and the words coming out of his mouth have all melted into "Please please please," and he's not even making sense to himself, but Superman -- Clark -- is right there, right everywhere and everything he needs and Tim's coming again, all over himself, and he feels too warm and too open and too everything.

"Tim," Clark says, and he's on Tim again like a huge, alien, solid blanket. "God, you're perfect."

Tim shakes his head and tries to bury his face in Clark's shoulder, but Clark won't let him. "I can't stop feeling things."

Clark kisses his cheek and his forehead. "Beautiful." When Tim opens his eyes, Clark is grinning at him. He still looks hungry.

"I never finished my patrol."

"You mean Robin didn't," Clark says, still smiling, and pets his hair. "You have time."

"No," Tim says, and if he looks mad -- well, at least the expression is accurate. "I didn't. I --"

Clark nuzzles his neck. "Don't worry, Tim. There's nothing going on there."

"Clark," Tim says, and he's glaring as best he can. "What would have to happen before you would tell me?"

He looks entirely too innocent. "I would take care of the problem, Tim." Clark squeezes him. "Don't worry."

Tim sighs and tries to put away all his expressions, but they won't go. He can't figure out where to stuff them, or how to smooth them away. "I need to get back. Soon."

"Do you?" Clark kisses him again, and -- he's already had two orgasms that felt like they were going to kill him. "Everything is fine."

"That's not the point," Tim says, but Clark is over him again.

Clark kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. "I'm listening. I promise."

"It's my job," Tim protests, between kisses.

"Robin's job." Superman -- not Clark -- is fingering him again -- and his fingers are slick. "Stay just a while longer."

It shouldn't make him shiver. Superman shouldn't be this persuasive, but -- god, it's making him spread again. The orders are coming from his hindbrain, and he can't stop shaking. "Just a little while," Tim says, against all his better judgment, which is clearly off somewhere with his actual self-control.

When Batgirl tells Bruce he was gone all night there's going to be some kind of really interesting hell to pay.

Superman has two fingers inside him and is kissing him until his hips buck and he's fucking himself, getting breathless with the kisses and hard, again, senselessly, thoughtlessly. It's more than enough, and he says, "Please --"

Losing Clark's fingers makes him gasp and feel a little lost. There are places to go that are more important than this and things to do that are far more necessary than letting Clark bury his face in Tim's neck and push into him -- no more teasing, just the needy weight of his body, slick and inevitable. Clark can make him be open, stay open --

Clark says his name, between gasps, and it makes him moan.

Clark says, "I love you," and that burns as much as the first thrust should've, if Tim wasn't so lost.

It's too much. It's been too much for three days, and he can't do it anymore.

It's not his fault he has to be Robin, now, but Robin can take much more than Tim.

"Clark," Robin says, and he sounds hoarse, but sane. Not pleading. Not whimpering. Safe.

It makes Clark narrow his eyes. "Don't, Tim --"

He doesn't have enough breath to speak above a whisper, but Clark could hear him if he was still in Blüdhaven. "I have to."

"You don't have to." It's not fair -- if Superman is over him, he should be whoever he wants.

Tim melts like butter in front of Superman. Like anyone would.

Robin has a little more armor -- even if all the literal armor is on the floor and Superman is thrusting into him --

Gently, for Superman. It has to be gentle, even if it makes Robin shudder.

Robin doesn't have to cry out.

Even when Superman bites at his jawline. "Tim, don't do this." Not Superman's voice.

"I can't stay here," Robin says, still in a whisper. If he could draw the breath to speak --

He does, and Clark strokes him. It's gone again.

"You're safe," Clark says, and kisses him, then looks at him hard. Looking for Tim. "Don't leave. Not yet."

Tim would make a face halfway rueful and halfway sad, and moan through it, right now, because Clark is relentless.

Robin raises an eyebrow and says, "I'm here."

It makes Clark frown -- and he's too perfect too frown. It doesn't suit him, but it's necessary. "Just a little while, Tim. Please."

"It hurts," Robin says, and though he doesn't have to cry out, he can thrust up when Clark is pushing into him and make it clear, so clear that it isn't the sex he means.

"It's the only way to do this right," Clark says, and -- It's Clark, and he's impossible to ignore. Everything about him is sincerity. He believes he's right with every alien fiber of his being. "Please."

Putting Robin away again really does hurt, even if it's what Clark needs from him. Feeling everything -- everything he's not sure he wants to feel, and letting it wash over his face like a wave, like a tide -- "God, what more do you want?"

Clark isn't smiling now. He's too focused to smile. "Oh, Tim. Come for me again."

Tim laughs, breathlessly, and that's part of being Tim, too. "Again? I -- not fair --"

"Perfectly fair." And whatever it is Clark has been holding back -- that heat, that speed, that perfect pressure that makes Tim feel with his whole self and just be what he's asked to be -- himself, safe, and he's crying out with the sounds Robin wouldn't make, all the pleasure and fear and, yes, love that he's been pushing away too long.

Someday maybe being Tim won't mean coming all over someone's chest while too much shows on his face, but this isn't that day.

It makes Clark groan and kiss him. "Oh, Tim," he says again, like it's more than a name, or more than just him. Something important to the fate of the universe, or -- someone who does more than Tim's doing, more than just kissing Clark while he shudders and comes and stills.

"I -- really do have to get home," Tim says.

Clark chuckles and kisses him. "Everything is still intact, back there. But -- yes. I know. You're wonderful."

"I try," Tim says.

Clark kisses him again and gives him a rueful smile. "We should find your mask."

"It can't have gotten far."

"No. I'm sure it hasn't."


End file.
